


Variation on the Word Sleep

by MurderBaby



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Death, F/M, chimera ant spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderBaby/pseuds/MurderBaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Komugi reflects on the three loves of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a prompt I received on tumblr to created a head canon based on the title of Margaret Atwood's poem Variation on the Word Sleep! I hadn't read the poem before, but the title was so tantalizing, and these two came to mind for me immediately.

Komugi remembered this same shrinking inside of her head from when she was a child. Her mother always left her for last in explaining anything to her, except for on the worst day.

For the most part, that suited Komugi well. Her mother would run out her daily supply of short tempered frustration on her older children, and that would leave her nothing but a stray insult, or quick smack to the head. Easily tolerated, especially when Komugi was in the midst of solving a new gungi problem.

One of her older siblings, her oldest sister and best friend, would set up the pieces, and read out their locations for Komugi. Her older sister had been the first to learn gungi from their grandfather, and later also took lessons from Komugi’s master.

It became clear, though, within months of Komugi beginning lessons, that Komugi’s talent dwarfed her sister’s by many orders of magnitude. Komugi even overtook her own master within the first two years of serious study.

Komugi’s sister would have had every reason to treat Komugi terribly for this. Komugi offered nothing else for her family. Her frequent illnesses, and her blindness, meant she would never work in the fields, or be paired with a suitable husband. With Gungi, though, she had her method through which she could dig, and dig away with her own efforts in order to free her family from some amount of the pressure from bearing the burden of a blind child.

In contrast, now, Komugi’s older sister needed to spend her days toiling in the fields. Of late, suitors could be heard shuffling up to their door step. Apparently, Komugi’s older sister was very beautiful, and many suitors - adequate and not even close - appeared as her coming out year approached.

Despite all of this, every night, Komugi’s sister would greet her with a calloused hand on her forehead. She would stop Komugi’s hands from cleaning the pieces off of the board, every time, and would read her own placement of her pieces everytime, even though it wasn’t necessary. Komugi could always figure out what piece it was by simply touching it, once, and then remember its movement over the course of the game.

The practice Komugi engaged in at night with her sister never felt as productive as her practice alone during the day, replaying other games, and her own games, and playing herself in the corner of the house, as far away from her mother as she could manage to be.

However, Komugi looked forward to their games and practices and discussions more than she looked forward to anything else in her life. She would wiggle in place, and hum as she tapped her pieces down. It reminded her of how she felt the first time she’d played gungi. That it was her vocation, but it was also a joy to her.

One night, though, she overheard her mother grumbling from the other side of their common area, as they waited for the other siblings to venture home.

“Spending every night wasting her time and her eyesight on playing games with the cripple,” her mother said. Trying to be quiet, but apparently forgetting that Komugi was only blind, not also deaf. “She will never find a husband like this.”

“Sister?” Komugi asked, quietly, as they crawled into bed later that night. Komugi had played poorly, and her sister managed to best her in one exchange. Unprecedented, and her sister cut the game short at that point.

“You must be sick, dearest. Let’s go to bed.”

“Wh…why do you spend every night with me like this?” Komugi whispered, blankets muffling her mouth. “Isn’t it bad? Am I keeping you from doing something more important? It’s just a game, right?”

It wasn’t just a game. Komugi would be traveling to the capital soon to compete in the largest tournament of the year next month. This practice helped her stay mentally limber, and engaged in the game. All the same, though. 

To hear their mother talk about it, despite all of the money that came in, how it helped buy new shoes for their baby brother, or helped afford a new roof when the rainy season began, the “game was just a waste of time.”

“You mustn’t listen to mother when she says that,” Komugi’s sister replied. “When you play gungi, it’s never a waste of time.”

Komugi didn’t like how easily it happened, but, all the same, her lip started quivering.

“But what about you? Aren’t I wasting your time?” Komugi sniffled.

One long arm reached over, and gripped her shoulder with careful fingers. Her sister pulled, and flopped her over until they were snuggling close together.

“Dearest, you couldn’t be further from the truth,” said her sister into the top of her head. Apparently, Komugi’s hair was her most striking and notable feature. White (like gungi pieces, she reasoned, even if that didn’t produce anything in particular for her to imagine) and long and soft when carefully brushed. It hurt to do that, most of the time, so Komugi didn’t bother. She had no one to impress, anyway.

“Your playing is a gift to me,” continued her sister. The intimacy of their conversation enhanced by their closeness, and a careful, secretive tone. Komugi felt her sister press even closer with her voice. “I am not a genius like you, dear. However, I know gungi, and I love gungi. To watch you play is simply marvelous.”

There was a pause. Komugi’s lip continued to quiver.

“You are connected to something much bigger, Komugi, dear. I’m sorry, I am not very good at putting things into words…” her sister said, finally, stopping as Komugi began sobbing in earnest. Komugi fell asleep with tears on her cheeks that night, rocked by her older sister’s strong arms.

After returning from the tournament, Komugi was immediately pulled aside by her mother.

Komugi assumed, at first, that her mother was asking after the tournament winnings. She bent to pull the bag from her belt.

“Komugi, stop. Listen to me.”

It had happened so fast.

She’d fallen in the field. No one understood exactly what happened. The doctor, or at least the man in the village with access to medicine and some first aid skills, came overnight, but it had been too late.

Komugi’s sister lay carefully arranged in the bed. Komugi had the opportunity, very briefly, to touch her hands, and fingers, and her sister’s long hair. Unlike Komugi, her sister’s hair was described as a beautiful, shiny black. The other color of gungi pieces.Her mother eventually pulled her away, and hugged her. It was the only time Komugi ever heard her mother cry. 

Tears felt inadequate. Her mind shrunk in on itself. All opportunities, but one, that had lain before her now disappeared.

All of her remaining time now belonged to her gungi board, and the warring black and white pieces.


	2. Chapter 2

What remained, in Komugi's final hours, was the gungi board. The least she could do, as her King was dying, was continue their game.

He had resisted when she told him how close he had come, that last match, to beating her.

She didn't know how she'd manage to suggest something so treasonous, honestly, with such subtlety, almost charmingly. But he grumbled, and actually chuckled.

"I'll never beat you, Komugi. I know that now," the King, no, his name is Meruem.

Was Meruem.

He really had gotten close. Komugi still thrilled when considering the growth the King demonstrated with his play.

Now, she played alone, and waited.

The King, no, Meruem, told her that they were in a neighborhood near the palace. He said the small house was available for their use for as long as they needed it.

It was only a few days. Maybe a few weeks? Komugi never felt strongly attached to the flow of time that others experienced. Playing gungi focused her attention so strongly to the board in her mind, and the interchange of movements with her opponent, that she never was sure.

She knew that earlier, when Meruem had requested his first break, he made a noise.

"You don't look well."

"Oh, no, sir, I mean my King, I mean, Meruem, sir. Please, don't mind me!"

"No, Komugi, please, is there something you need?"

"Um, well, I suppose I haven't eaten anything in a while, so I..."

Komugi heard Meruem stand. She could recognize the action, but even so, she always felt like something a little strange was going as she listened to the King. Something about the way he moved was a bit too quick. The sounds his body made as he stood, moved his arm, or tapped his fingers against the board were ever so slightly off tempo.

She couldn't put words to it, but it unsettled her.

Now, she didn't have answers for why, but she at least she had textures and shapes in her mind to hold onto as she placed the black and white pieces in turn.

Smooth, but not like skin. Smooth like plastic, or the cool touch of a pane glass. 

"Of course, how utterly simple of me. You haven't eaten in days, have you?"

She tried to shake her head, but she felt a gentle touch on the top of her scalp. 

"I am not sure what food you enjoy, but I will see what I can find."

Komugi scrunched up her nose, and hummed out loud.

"I don't know either, um, sir. Meruem. Anything will be fine!"

"No, that won't do at all."

A very, very gentle thump, on the top of her head.

"Come on."

She felt a hand pull her to her feet. Only for a moment.

Something unsettling about this, too. Something blanketing her in warmth, too.

It was easy to follow the King's steps. When the reached the stairs, he grabbed her gently by the wrist, and directed her down the steps.

"Here," he finally said, and she felt a chair press against the back of her knees. She sat.

"I have to imagine something here will suffice for food."

Komugi grabbed the fabric of her skirt in her lap, and her fingers did a quiet jig as she waited.

"Hmmm, so, this is where food is kept when it needs to be stored below room temperature for management of micro-organism growth. And, this is simply a room temperature storage alcove."

Komugi wished she could offer something helpful, but she also found it enjoyable to hear her King talk about something different than gungi. His voice, at first terrifying and startling, had become as comfortable as the chorus of snores that lulled her to sleep in her family home. Deep and confident. She could feel it resonate in her breastbone.

"This, though..."

She heard an electronic beep, a click, and a hinge creak.

"Oh, um, your majesty," Komugi started. The King interrupted her with a hasty "Komugi, please use my name."

"Oh, oh, oh, Meruem. Um. I think that's a microwave?"

She heard a second click, and a third.

"A microwave?"

"Yes, it cooks food, with uh...waves? Like, um, energy or something? I don't really understand it, myself, but we've used them in hotels before when I would travel to Gungi tournaments."

"Fascinating," Meruem muttered.

Another noise that Komugi couldn't place at first. A hiss and a swoosh of cold air.

"Oh, a refrigerator!"

"Hmmm," Meruem continued, softly breathing out like he was humming. Komugi found that sound very particularly satisfying to hear. It often meant Komugi had impressed her King enough to give him pause.

It meant that he would slow down, and consider his next move carefully. It meant she needed to brace herself against the next move. It meant the King's play was growing.

Frequently, the King played far too quickly, which Komugi always suspected held him back as a player, though she'd never say such a thing.

"This. Komugi, what is this?" Meruem asked. Komugi thought she might frown, but didn't. She couldn't answer him, and whenever people asked her questions as if expecting her to see, and respond, she would frown, guilty and ashamed.

This time, she laughed. Just the slightest bit. Her King was so smart, yet to ask her this.

"I don't know, sir, oh, I mean Meruem. I would need to smell it or taste it."

"Oh!" Meruem responded. Two quick slaps of feet against floor, and then Komugi felt her fingers wrap reflexively against the cold press of metal in her hand.

"I wish I could tell you myself if it's okay," Meruem whispered. "But it appears to look fine, to me."

Komugi rearranged her fingers, and lifted the spoon to her mouth.

Childhood and warm nights surrounded by her family filled Komugi's senses.

"Rice porridge! I haven't had this in a long time," Komugi said. Speaking slipped out easily, even though her mouth was now filled with creamy, thick rice. The seasoning and texture made her stomach audibly growl as she swallowed the mouthful.

"Is it good?"

Komugi nodded, tears coming too quickly, again. Meruem gave a startled bleat of sound.

"It's just like my mother's," Komugi said, through a wet sniffle.

"Your mother," Meruem repeated. He sounded confused. Or, surprised?

"Um, I think this will taste better warmed up," Komugi offered. A hand gently removed the spoon. The tip of her tongue could almost say the word to describe how the hand felt. Almost, but not quite. She swallowed, again, but this one just held her own restless feelings.

Sounds of a kitchen in use filled the space between them. Normally, the King kept so completely still and quiet that Komugi wouldn't realize he'd moved a gungi piece until he heard the thwack of the piece against wood.

As he moved now, the sounds discomforted her, but soon, too, they filled Komugi with a nostalgic feeling almost the same as the porridge.

As if Komugi might have just come home.

The slap of feet, and then two knocks. Komugi felt her hand gripped again, and the spoon placed in it.

Unnecessary. A little insulting, really, but Komugi couldn't feel anything but warm and pleased. Komugi sat up very straight. She reached out carefully, and felt the warm edge of the bowl.

"Thank you very, very much," Komugi said, clasping both hands around her spoon. "Thanks to God and all of his mercy for this feast."

The heavy wooden legs of the chair growled loudly against the floor as it was pulled out across from Komugi.

"God, huh?"

Komugi stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth.

"No," was all she said.

Komugi didn't want to talk about this, and besides, the smell of her food was far too distracting. It wasn't quite as delicious as her mother's, but hunger was a terribly effective sauce.

At first, Komugi only heard herself eating. She blushed, worrying that she looked ridiculous eating by herself.

"Bland," Meruem finally said. Komugi blushed harder. It was not surprising that the King would prefer more elaborate food. Not food enjoyed by a peasant, like her.

"But," Meruem continued. "I believe I now understand its appeal."

The softness of the King's voice stopped Komugi's hand, again.

"What food do you like, Me...Meruem?" Komugi asked. 

The silence, at first, made her hand shake, but soon it filled with the rare and precious sound of the King's laughter.

"Something I can no longer find. Something too precious to be found, again."

"I'm sorry!" Komugi said, automatically. More precious laughter. Warmer than the porridge, or her own cheeks, now.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Komugi," Meruem replied. 

The silence returned, but it was now comfortable, an easy space in which Komugi could finish her food. 

"Thank you, again," Komugi said, with a long sigh of contentment. "Meruem, um, sir!"

She said his name, easier than ever before. She actually heard him nod.

"You're welcome, Komugi."

Her hands began to twitch, again, as she felt her mind wander back up stairs, to their gungi game. The food filled her back up with the rushing, ceaseless movements of gungi pieces. The game they had abandoned wasn't her most elegant or well executed game, but already she considered the next move she would make, and expected to shift the momentum back in her favor quickly. 

"Komugi?"She felt herself jump, as the King interrupted her rapid thoughts with his even, precise voice.

"Oh, um, yes?"

"You told me this food reminded me of your mother," Meruem said. "Can you tell me more about her?"

"My mother, sir?" Komugi said, and pointed at herself. She somehow heard that nod, again, and a small sound of affirmation. 

"My mother was very strong," Komugi finally said. "She took care of me and my 8 brothers and sisters."

"Oh?" Meruem replied, simply. No other sound. Was he really sitting, and waiting for her to continue?

"She was strong, and she wasn't kind..." Komugi felt compelled, suddenly, to speak her true feelings about her mother. Why? They did no one any good. Her mother did what any mother must do. She fed and clothed us. She kept us safe. She didn't toss me into the woods to die with the first frost, and become food for wild dogs. 

"You said your mother was," Meruem said, after Komugi refused to continue her thought. "Does that mean that she is dead?"

Komugi gulped, and nodded. "Yes, she died 3 years ago.""My mother is also dead," Meruem said, quickly. "She died very recently."

Komugi found herself at a loss for words. She wordlessly voiced her empathy. She could hear how raw this must feel. The King's voice softened, and opened a new path between the two of them. "I never knew her, but I wish I had."

"I wish I had, too!" Komugi said, automatically. It was true, but she wasn't really sure she should say such a thing. 

"Hmmm, I would be very curious to learn what you thought of her. Now, come on, we have a game to finish."

Komugi's wrist was encircled, gently, and her hand placed against the smooth fabric, something Komugi had never felt before, covering the King's back. Together, the climbed the stairs, and returned to the room. 

I have not been taken care of like this since I was young, and still living at home. Komugi thinks this, and almost says it, her filter slipping away, as if she actually was at home, too. 

The game started again as if there had been no break at all. Both were eager to return to it. Komugi did return the match to her own pace and momentum, and soon, the familiar clatter of pieces dropped on the wood of the board indicated the King's resignation.

"One more!" Komugi immediately replied, reaching out to scoop the pieces, and separate them by color. This was a good gungi board, with fine pieces. The white ones felt slightly coarse, as they were made of shell, and the black ones felt smooth, as they were made from finely polished stone. 

"Komugi, wait," Meruem said. Uncharacteristically, especially after a loss where he really had made tremendous strides towards that eventual victory he sought. 

"Komugi, I need to be honest with you." 

The King used the same bone deep tone as when he spoke earlier about his mother.

"About what, sir?" Komugi asked, holding the pieces in her hand, as they threatened to roll out of her hands. 

"I am..." Meruem started. He shifted, and his hand tapped the board. "Komugi, I'm dying."

Pieces do start to fall from her hand. She sets them down. This feeling was familiar, too. The feeling of the world bottoming out underneath her, her feet flying above her head, without finding purchase or stability

."And you..." Meruem continues, and then stops. For a long, long time, he stops. So long, that Komugi starts to speak, afraid he'd left, or something worse. "If you stay with me, you'll become sick, too, and die." 

She found her stability, at this news. Death did not scare Komugi. Death hadn't scared her in a long time. "So, you should leave now, Komugi. If you stay here, with me, you'll..." 

"Dearest," Komugi said, the space between them disappearing with every word she spoke. "There is no place I would rather be." 

Nothing more needed to be said, for the moment. Or, rather, neither of them seemed to know how to say what they wanted to say, next. Finally, the King bent over the board. Komugi could feel how warm his breath was, near her face. He smelled like rich soil, and something sharp, like black cinders. 

"Allow me," Meruem said. She felt his strong, smooth fingers gather the pieces. 

It started in her runny nose, like always, and soon she felt her tongue curl around the sobs, as tears fell down her face.

"Is someone like me really allowed to be this happy?"

"Komugi?!" came the King's startled voice. 

The pieces dropped, again, and she felt arms wrap around her shoulders.

The King felt almost cold, which worried her, but he didn't let go, even as she got her tears and snot and shaking, overwhelming feelings every where. 

She knew she was home.

\----

"Komugi?"

"One more?"

"I need to lay down, just for a little while, okay?"

"Meruem?"

She heard him lift his body. The sounds had changed. He seemed to move too quick, before, and now, it was so slow. He moved so slowly, and he played slowly, too. Slowly, but more carelessly. 

"Komugi, I'm just going to lay down for a minute, okay?"

Komugi heard his body creak, and unfold. She heard the soft sound as a body spread across the floor. She felt her hands itch, immediately. The only thing she could do for her King was play gungi. She started to clean up the pieces. 

"Komugi?" 

"Dear?"

How easily she said it now, and how right it felt. Her fingers twitched, and she coughed, as she waited for his answer.

"Can you hold my hand?"

Komugi coughed, and moved towards the voice. She could hear him shift, the sound of his body moving no longer sounded unusual, though she still knew she couldn't explain it. 

Her fingertips found his reaching hand. For the first time, she felt fully this strange, strong hand in her own. 

Three fingers, and a long, carefully curved thumb. The missing finger did not startle Komugi, surprisingly. It was how cool and still her fingers felt pressed against the King's hand. Against Meruem's hand.

She coughed, again, and so did Meruem, in a final, ugly duet. 

"Stay with me, Komugi."

"I'm not going anywhere, dear," Komugi said, crawling closer. Her hand found Meruem's head. Another mystery. Too many mysteries under her hand.

Yet, just being with him, right now, was enough. She didn't need to know anything more. 

He leaned up, and laid back into her lap, the way her younger siblings used to when they were all smaller.

His breathing was distressingly loud, now. The comfort of silence now disturbed by his obvious pain, and his obvious weakness. 

She squeezed his odd hand tighter.

Not human. 

That was clear enough, now.

Maybe no Kings were human.

Or maybe Komugi wasn't human, and she would just never know any better.

"Komugi?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you still there?"

Silence between them, as she considered. She moved her free hand to his face, and touched his chin and cheek and nose in answer.

Cool, and yet the heat of his breath felt hot like a fever. He coughed, again.

It wouldn't be much longer, for him. She didn't need to cry. It wouldn't be much longer for her, either. 

"I'm happy that I met you."

"No, Meruem!" she said. Not a shout, but a whispered, insistent exclamation all the same. "No, I'm the one who is happy."

The comfort of their silence was gone forever, now, with his labored breathing floating between them. 

"I'm sorry," Meruem said. Slowly, and with a throat so narrow Komugi had to bend her head to hear it.

"For what?"

That labored unquiet continued, for a time, before Meruem spoke again.

"For killing you."

He didn't understand at all. She didn't, either. She was born for this. He was born for this. 

When the sounds of his heavy breathing stopped, she felt the wet, sticky blood slide down her lips. She was suddenly exhausted. She needed to get her own sleep, now.

She curled his arm, heavy and strong, around herself. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but what different did comfort make now? Comfort was never the goal for either of them.

Sleep took her, soon.

Some time later, she met him again. His face was still curious to the touch. His hands held hers with strength and sweetness. Her sister's hair felt long, and soft, in her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> I love to read comments! Good, or bad. They all make my day.
> 
> You can feel free to connect with me on tumblr, too! I live on murderxbaby.tumblr.com.


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